


Scars Don't Fade Away

by EdgyFood87



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgyFood87/pseuds/EdgyFood87
Summary: No matter how much you try to pretend you're okay, try to pretend it didn't happen, try to forget, it's never over. Even when you think you've forgotten, healed, the past still finds a way to claw itself out. Once it starts, it never stops.He's not okay. The truth is, he was never okay. He just fooled himself into thinking he was.





	Scars Don't Fade Away

He resented him. He knew he should feel grateful, but that was difficult when your own _father_ , who used to be a _cop_ , couldn't construe that something was wrong. He was there. He had watched. He had saved him, but just as soon as it had ended he had also forgotten. It had been Michonne who held him, comforted him, not Rick.

He didn't understand why his dad didn't talk to him about that night. Not that he wanted to have a conversation like that, he just wanted to know that his dad cared for him. Maybe he didn't care. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he was disappointed with Carl for not being able to defend himself. Or maybe he was pushing it back into the depths of his mind, not bringing it up for either Carl's or his own sake.

He tossed the comic he had been reading to the floor and collapsed on his bed with a sigh and a whimper. Over time, he had tried to move on. Best not to dwell on the past. He thought he had overcome the horrors of that night. One day, the nightmares stopped. Over time, the man who had held him down faded away. Just a memory. And with more time, not even that. There was just nothing. The memories that had haunted him were gone. Or so he thought.

No matter how much you try to pretend you're okay, try to pretend it didn't happen, try to forget, it's never over. Even when you think you've forgotten, healed, the past still finds a way to claw itself out. Once it starts, it never stops.

He's not okay. The truth is, he was never okay. He just fooled himself into thinking he was. Their encounter with Negan had dug up everything that he'd been trying to hide for the past few years. The nightmares came back. The feeling that he was always being watched. The feeling of weakness. The fear that it would happen again.

_"Kid, come here."_

_"Kid, now."_

_Carl stood and shuffled over until he was standing before the man. He could faintly hear the man's voice in his ears, dulled by his own racing mind. Was he about to die? Then he heard the command._

_To get down on the ground._

_Then he was being pushed, shoved mercilessly to the ground. His cheek hit the cold, hard earth below him and it all came flooding back._

Hands. Hands everywhere. Laughter. Cries, screams. Grunts. The feeling of intruding hands exploring under his clothes. "Shhh..." Carl cried out, but the man kept going, his cruel laughter as a reminder that it was only going to get worse from there. The unwelcome touching would escalate into blistering, unendurable pain.

Luckily, the disgusting, putrid man never made it that far with Carl before he was gutted, but that didn't make everything okay. That didn't make anything okay. He still felt like somebody could hold him down at any moment and take advantage of him, and maybe his dad wouldn't be there to save him when it happened.

He could barely register what was going on around him. His dad was screaming, pleading. _It's going to happen_. Carl squeezed his eye shut, trying to contain his emotions. _Control yourself_. But the hands kept moving, kept touching. Carl was about to cry out, but then Negan was gone. It hadn't happened.

_But it could have._

He sat up as the cars left, tried to control his breathing. He was fine. It was Maggie who needed help, not him. He needed to stop being such a selfish pussy.

After checking every corner in his room, every shadow, Carl finally tried to sleep. He couldn't do it. Every time he closed his eye, the man was on top of him, holding him down. He laughed as the tugged Carl's pants down. He laughed as he undid his belt. Laughed at Carl's whimpers, his struggles, his pleading. Everything.

Carl sat up and rubbed his eye. Just when everything was okay, this forbidden night had to come back into his life. _Thanks a lot, Negan._

He turned on his lamp and picked up a random comic book, hoping to forget the haunting ordeal for at least a few minutes. He just wanted to be free. As he read, he felt sleep beginning to take him over again. He willed himself to stay awake, avoid the terrors that lurked in the gloom of his mind, but soon he was back on that road.

He woke with a shriek and tears began to pour down his cheeks like tiny waterfalls. His dad, still in his underwear, burst into his room. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. Carl nodded and wiped the tears away with his thumb.

"Just a nightmare, Dad. I'm fine." He expected his dad to nod and go back to sleep, but he didn't. He walked over and sat next to Carl on the bed. He placed a hand on his back and rubbed soothing circles as he frowned at his son.

"You've been acting different since we met Negan," he said. "Is this because of Glenn and Abraham?"

Carl felt more tears forming in his eye. Those names stung, but he shook his head. This wasn't about them. "People die all the time. I miss them, but that's not it."

"Then what's wrong?" Carl didn't answer, didn't look up to meet his father's gaze. "Carl, please talk to me. I can help you."

"When..." Carl began, choking back a painful lump forming in his throat. "When Negan put me on the ground, I didn't have any control. I didn't know what he was going to do to me. Anything could have happened. It just reminded me of when..."

Rick nodded, understanding. "Carl, I didn't know that still affected you. If I did, I would have tried to help you. I didn't... I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Carl asked him. "Were you mad I couldn't fight him?" Do you hate me? That was the real question.

"No," Rick said firmly. "He was more than twice your size. Much stronger." He moved his hand from Carl's back to his knee. "It wasn't your fault."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" Carl asked again, this time a little stronger.

"I've had experience with this sort of thing before," Rick said. "When I was a cop. But you, you're my son. It was different. I didn't know what to say, and I'm sorry. I just didn't have the courage to try to talk to you about it."

Carl nodded and managed a weak smile. He understood. No matter how stupid it was, he understood.

Rick leaned in and embraced Carl, tears of his own beginning to fall. "I'm so sorry, Carl," Rick whispered as he held onto his boy, his grip tightening with every word, every breath. "I was so selfish. I'm sorry"

Carl didn't care. This is what he needed, and he didn't care about what his father had done in the past. "I love you, Dad" he breathed into his neck.

"I love you, too."

The nightmares would still occur. Carl knew he'd be forced to endure the ordeal on repeat a few more times, but this time, he didn't feel as if he was alone. He had his father.

Scars never fully heal. Scars don't fade away. But a little love, a little help. That never hurt anybody.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this met your expectations. I honestly feel like I could have done a bit better with this, but whatever.


End file.
